A Year Abroad
by Blaidd Louveteau
Summary: Viktor Krum's point of view of his year spent at Hogwarts, and the bookish girl who grabs his attention while he's there.
1. The Labors of Getting Lost

Viktor Krum had not been enjoying the short time he had spent at Hogwarts. He would admit, only to himself, that he was enjoying the warmer climate, the beautifully quiet surrounding nature, and the interestingly complex castle. But his summer's performance at the Quidditch World Cup had estranged him completely from his fellow students at Durmstrang. Any friends he had had as a younger student now only looked at him with the same awe-filled eyes and stammering speech as the hoards of fangirls that had chased him around the World Cup. He had thought it would be better, coming to Hogwarts and getting to meet new people. He found, however, that it was even worse here; the larger school just had more girls to follow him around batting their eyelashes and dropping books around him, more young boys asking for his autograph, as if owning something of his would make some of his success and popularity rub off on them.

Viktor had, at first, enjoyed the attention; but more and more frequently his thoughts returned to how he was treated before he had been discovered by the Bulgarian National Team. Put off by his shy nature and dark, brooding appearance, most people had avoided him for his first six years of school. He had once heard Anya Kuranko, a girl in his year, referring to him as a leering vulture to one of her girlfriends. The term stuck in his mind and resurfaced every time he saw a huddled group of giggling girls around him.

Viktor took to wandering the castle in his free time, diving into secret passageways and unlocking hidden doors to avoid the other students. He was not particularly concerned with his classes, as he was excused form end of the year exams and already had a job in the wizarding world. The first Triwizard Tournament task, too, did not offer much stress, as Professor Karkaroff had assured him he would take care of everything. Viktor therefore found himself with a lot of free time on his hands. He desperately wished to take out his broom and fly a bit, but this of course would be impossible without the greater part of all three schools coming out to watch him.

One day, while wandering around the third floor trying to shake off some particularly persistent third-years, Viktor turned a familiar corner and spotted an unfamiliar golden knob glittering on the wall underneath a table holding a potted Venomous Tentacular. He checked behind himself to make sure the third-years hadn't caught up, squatted under the table, and pulled the knob, which opened a crawl-space-sized hole in the wall. He forced his broad shoulders and gangly limbs inside and shut the door behind him.

"_Lumos_," he muttered, hand gripping his wand.

A tunnel extended before him, perfectly rectangular and uniform. Viktor crawled forward, awkwardly banging his shoulders on the ceiling and sides. He barely fit, and worried that the tunnel would get smaller ahead and he would be stuck.

The tunnel continued, however, with the same size, and Viktor squeezed around countless corners for what must have been half an hour. Finally, he saw ahead of him a latch attached to a far wall. He pulled it open eagerly and let in a rush of light. He forced his body through the door and found himself at the foot of an impressive bookshelf, extending to the ceiling. Next to it were rows and rows of uniform bookshelves. The library. Viktor had not visited it yet.

He picked himself up off the ground and walked away from the wall through the books. To his surprise, he soon came to a glass door that partitioned him from the rest of the library. He could see a huddle of Hogwarts students on the other side, obscured partially by a large white sign hanging on the glass.

"Restricted Section," it read in mirror image.

His brain muddled through the still difficult foreign language on top of the backwards letters, and worked out that he was in a part of the library that he probably shouldn't be in. He tried the door handle and, unsurprised, found it wouldn't budge.

"_Alohamora," _he tried, half-heartedly and to no effect.

_Now what_, he thought lamely. He didn't relish the thought of spending another half hour returning the way he came. He looked around the frame of the glass, looking for ideas of an easy escape, before his eyes fell on the table of Hogwarts students he had glanced over before.

Two boys were shooting tiny paper airplanes back and forth at each other with their wands while the librarian was turned away. Viktor recognized one of them as Harry Potter, the trophy child of Great Britain and his soon-to-be competitor. He seemed to be trying to aim a tiny fighter jet to hit his friend, a red-haired boy almost ganglier than Viktor, in the eye. Sitting between them at the table was a girl.

She was young—Viktor guessed she couldn't be possibly be over sixteen—and had a mass of thick brown hair surrounding her thin and rather striking profile. Her large dark eyes raced steadily across the page of a book opened on the table before her, the tiniest hint of a tongue peeking out from the side of her round, pink mouth. Her long, thin body arched slightly over the table, giving pronunciation to the beginnings of a more womanly form.

Her redhead friend had begun pounding one of the planes into the side of her book, clearly trying to illicit a reaction. Far from ignoring him, Viktor saw that she was unaware of him altogether. She read ceaselessly on, completely clueless to the pestering of her friend. Viktor had never seen someone read so determinedly in his life.

He watched her tirelessly for several minutes before her eyes flicked up in the direction of where he was standing. He jumped backwards in alarm, hiding himself amongst the books once more.

_Had she seen him?_ His heart raced wildly. _Had he wanted her to?_

Viktor retreated into the dark crawl-space, his mind more occupied than it had been in weeks.


	2. Skulking in the Library

He tried to pick her out everywhere he went over the next few days. At breakfast, when he saw her with her same two friends at the Gryffindor table, as far as possible from the Slytherin table where the Durmstrang students normally sat. In the halls, where he saw her hurriedly marching with a pile of books from class to class. And then the afternoons, when she would disappear to the library, sometimes with the two boys and sometimes alone. Every day, there she sat, reading book after book.

He took to spending his afternoons in the library as well. She usually sat at a large round table in the middle of a room, and he confined himself to a corner desk, which offered a perfect vantage point without too obviously attracting her attention. He always settled in with a book himself, but this was largely for pretenses and often lay untouched in his lap.

After a while, every day was the same. Viktor would watch the brunette, telling himself over and over that he had to get up and talk to her, and then successfully ignoring himself and just continuing to stare. It was more difficult on the days her friends were with her, as they were more likely to notice his preoccupation.

_Don't they have anything better to do than watch their friend read?_ Viktor wondered angrily one day, before realizing the hypocrisy of the thought.

He had spent a good deal of time wondering, too, about the relationships between the three friends. Potter and the girl, he saw almost instantly, had a purely platonic friendship. Friendly and kind but un-awkward, he could see they thought of each other as siblings.

The redhead, however, he was less sure of. Though the girl treated him with the same easy deference as Potter, Viktor noticed a certain lingering of his eyes and readiness to tease her that he did not trust.

Still, they were clearly only friends and to him that meant the opportunity was open. If only he could think of a sentence to string together in English that didn't sound completely inane.

_Hello, I'm the boy who's been watching you read for weeks._

_ My name is Viktor, you may have seen me lurking in that corner over there. _

On top of his nerves surrounding this girl, the first task was quickly approaching and Karkaroff had told him nothing about what to expect or how to accomplish it. He began to spend his time in the library _actually _reading, mainly just flipping through advanced spell books looking for anything that might come in handy against a totally unknown was difficult not only because of his lacking knowledge of the task, but also with the constant whispers and giggles coming from behind the bookshelves. Viktor couldn't believe they didn't know ho obvious they were being, but the pack of girls that followed him around had taken to peering through gaps in the shelves to get a better glimpse of him.

_I suppose I only deserve it, considering my current past-time_, he thought bitterly.

His attention was distracted one day by a conversation the girl was having with her two friends.

"For the last time, Ron, it's not 'spew!' It's 'S-P-E-W,' the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare!" she said angrily to the red-haired boy.

"Yeah, try saying that three times fast. Anyway, you heard what Hagrid said. The elves _like_ being enslaved, there's no use upsetting them by trying to give them freedom."

"_That_, Ronald, is exactly the sort of attitude that kept slavery legal in America for so long, and gave Hitler the power to kill millions of people!"

"Who?" the boy blinked blankly.

The girl seemed to be fed up with the conversation. She sighed exaggeratedly and returned to scribbling furiously on a bit of parchment.

Had Viktor understood correctly? Was the girl campaigning for rights for elves? How...odd. Then again, nothing about her behavior over the last few weeks had given him reason to believe she was an ordinary girl.

But this could be it—the opportunity he had been waiting for. All he had to do was go up and tell her he wanted to join her society. He could become interested in magical creature rights, why not. He just had to wait to get her alone...

As usual, Hermione's friends left her about an hour before dinner as she continued working. The moment they had left the library, Viktor seized the opportunity. He stood from his desk and forced himself to walk across the room.

_No turning back now_, he egged himself on, _do it _now.

He stopped to stand opposite her at her table and opened his mouth to speak. _Please, please, don't mess up the English_, he prayed quickly before-

"Viktor!" said a daring female voice behind him. He turned to see a Ravenclaw fifth year—who had looked like she had hiked up her skirt to reveal more of her long, rather impressive legs—holding a quill outstretched to him. "I was wondering if you would sign my book." She flipped her hair back and smiled archly. "I'm Samantha Bays."

_These English girls are too bloody forward_, thought Viktor, not daring to glance back at the much quieter English girl behind him. Had he, he might have caught the smallest of smiles tracing her lips as her eyes continued to scan the book in her hands.


	3. A Proper Proposal

Karkaroff had clued Viktor in on the first task just a little over a week before the event. He hadn't been worried, though; offensive spells had always been his specialty, and Karkaroff had told him that the eye was the dragon's weak point. He got through the first task quickly and more easily than he had expected, and found he had several months before he had to start dreading the next one.

A new point of stress had presented itself, however; soon after the first task, Karkaroff brought the Durmstrang students to the bridge of the ship, which had become their meeting place for the year, and informed them that the evening of Christmas would be a ball for the students of the three schools.

"The Yule Ball," the tall, powerfully built man told them, peering out from under heavy eyebrows, "is a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament. You will take this as an opportunity to reaffirm to the students of Hogwarts and Beauxbatons our stoicism and our pride. Students ages fourteen and above will choose from amongst the other Durmstrang students a partner for the dance, and you will represent your school proudly."

Viktor, however, could not think of a single girl he wanted to ask as much as the bookish brown-haired girl from Hogwarts. Surely Karkaroff wouldn't think badly of him asking a girl from another school...well, he at least wouldn't prevent it. There were numerable perks to being the headmaster's favorite.

The only real detraction was that he still hadn't spoken to the girl. She undoubtedly new who he was, but how could he explain knowing her? The most he could hope for was that she would be too stunned that an international quidditch player was asking her to a dance to ask her too many questions.

It was an evening in early December when Viktor decided it was time. The girl had returned to the library alone after dinner, and Viktor had accompanied her, albeit paced two minutes behind. She sat in her usual seat at her usual table, but instead of returning to his desk, Viktor marched decisively to her.

"Hello," he said, causing her to jump and stare up at him. _Those eyes_, thought Viktor. "I was wondering if I may sit down."

"Er—yes, of course," she said and watched him do so. She glanced at the open book on the table as if unsure if she was supposed to return to it or continue talking to him. Viktor smiled at her apparent nervousness.

"My name is Viktor."

"Hermione Granger," responded the girl, holding out her hand across the table.

He took her small pale hand inside his massive dark one and shook it lightly, contemplating the weird English ritual. Hermy-own-ee, had she said? That would be an interesting one to learn.

"I have noticed you are here quite a lot," he continued, gesturing at the room.

"So are you," she returned simply.

Viktor smiled more warmly at her now and tucked a curl of his long hair behind his ear. "I enjoy the scenery."

She caught his eyes questioningly, silently asking if he meant what she thought he meant.

"Are you enjoying Hogwarts?" she said, clearly wanting to avoid a lapse in conversation.

"Yes. I—I have begun more recently to like it much more."

Another pause of silence. He thought he heard her swallow.

"Well, I-"

"I have been-"

They both had tried to speak at the same time. She blushed, the pink coloring her pretty cheekbones. "Go ahead," she said softly.

"I wanted to say that I have wondered if you would like to attend the Christmas ball with me." He had said it; too quickly and perhaps too heavily accented, but he had said it.

"Oh," she said, her eyes finding his again like a deer in headlights. "Oh, yes, okay."

He grinned in response. "Wonderful. I—I will look forward to it very much."

He was still smiling as he told her good night and began to walk out of the library. Then he thought of something, turned on his heel, and walked back.

"I may see you again sometime soon?"

"Um...there's a Hogsmeade trip tomorrow...we could meet at the Three Broomsticks? Around noon?"

"Very good," said Krum without thinking about it for a second, nodding like a happy puppy. It's not like he had any other plans for the day. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Viktor," she returned. The name sounded strange coming from her soft, sweet voice, but its sound warmed him all throughout the chilly walk back to the Durmstrang ship in the nearly-frozen lake.


	4. A More Official Meeting

Viktor woke the next morning with an anxious knot in his stomach. He got immediately out of bed—not a simple task, as the cabin beds on the Durmstrang ship were nestled high above the constantly swaying floor—and wandered down the hall to the small head. He scrutinized his reflection in the mirror and pulled angrily at his hair. The shoulder-length tendrils had a tendency to fall in front of his face, making his already disheveled appearance just a little more wild. And couldn't he do something about the crook in his nose?

He spent a few more moments staring angrily at himself before turning away with a huff. He was Viktor Krum, for Merlin's sake, didn't that count for something?

He ended up showering twice and testing three different robe-sweater combinations before deciding his look would have to do.

At this point, Viktor looked at his watch. It was eight o'clock—he had already been awake for two hours. Other students were emerging from their cabins and walking sleepily down the passageways. As usual, no one offered him a kind smile or nod in greeting; any one who noticed him merely stared, as if they all had forgotten that he was someone who could be spoken to and not merely looked at.

Viktor hurriedly left the ship and went to breakfast in the Hogwarts Great Hall, to spend the remainder of his time before the trip to Hogsmeade in the warm and relatively welcoming castle.

…

Viktor entered the dimly lit Three Broomsticks at exactly twelve o'clock. His eyes sifted through the swells of Hogwarts teenagers, with a few international students sprinkled throughout. Viktor watched a Beauxbatons girl of about thirteen scrunch her nose up at a butterbeer-sticky table she was sitting down at with a group of friends.

She wasn't there yet. Viktor sat at an empty table in the back.

12:04...12:05...12:07...

She entered the pub at 12:09 and spotted Viktor immediately.

"I'm sorry!" she said. "My friend Harry got caught up in this exploding firecracker set at Zonko's and...ah, nevermind." She smiled self-consciously.

Viktor wanted to say something charming. Tell her she looked lovely today, make her laugh, make her interested. But he could think of nothing good enough, in Bulgarian or English.

"Have you ordered anything?"

He shook his head. "What do you suggest?"

"Well, everyone always has the butterbeer here...but I've always preferred the cider."

"Two ciders then?" he asked, getting up. She nodded and smiled.

He ordered their drinks from the older but pretty barmaid and sat down again. Deep breath, Viktor, you can do it. Act like a sociable human being for once.

"You have been enjoying the tournament?" he asked her, sitting down again.

She nodded again, vigorously, her bushy hair bouncing. "It's been so interesting to see what the teachers have come up with...and I've read a bit about the different wizarding schools around the world, but getting to actually see the students and teachers from them is fascinating." She paused. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to make it sound like I'm studying you."

He laughed and began to feel much more at ease. "You may study me as much as you like. Read me like a book." He opened his arms as if revealing pages to be read across his chest.

She laughed too. "You seem to read a lot," she said. "I mean, I see you in the library often."

"Ah—yes, I do read a bit." He wasn't ready to admit to her the real reason he had been spending all his free time in the desk across from her. "But mostly I just prefer the quiet in the library, away from the bigger groups of students."

The barmaid put their ordered glasses in front of them.

"Your English is really good," she said. "Have you practiced much before?"

"We all take English classes at Durmstrang for at least two years. I took them for my full time there."

"I wish they offered different languages at Hogwarts. But then, there's just so much to learn."

"I agree. There is not enough time in a lifetime to learn even a small fraction of all the knowledge in the world."

She looked at him with wide eyes and he shifted nervously. "I am not used to being studied," he laughed.

She smiled. "Well, I'm enjoying studying you."

Their conversation lasted nearly an hour before she said she would have to be getting back to her friends—Ron and Harry, their names were. She said they had made plans to visit another friend in the village. Viktor rose with her and helped her into her cloak, his hands lingering over her shoulders as he stood behind her. Once cloaked, she turned to face him, their bodies inches apart, though their faces considerably farther because of his height. He leaned slightly down towards her.

"Goodbye, Viktor!" she chirped quickly before bounding away.

He smiled after her as she left the pub, letting in a gust of snow and light from the open door.

As he turned to collect his own cloak, he realized he still didn't properly know her name.

_Hermy-nee? Her-min-ee? Bullocks, this was going to take a while._


End file.
